The weekend started on Friday, we left on a huge bus for the 2 hour adventure to 7 Mile Beach (which according to Surf Camp Australia is the best learn to surf beach holler). We got off the bus and as I lugged my obviously overpacked Vera Bradley duffle through a dark little trailer park, I couldn't help but to hope I was not actually staying in the typical scene from a bad horror movie. But no worries we stayed in these cute little cabins (and by little I mean tiny and by cute I mean janky cabins with creaky bunk beds, dirty looking sheets and a single space heater, apparently a surfer's paradise so I went with it.)
7am rolled around way faster than I remembered it did back in my WJ days, but I was up and eating corn flakes by 7:15 and in a damp super flattering wetsuit or "wettie" by 8am. Little did I know that surfing in the winter in Australia is actually cold (I know I know, winter is the key word in that but I had a happy misconception that Aussie cold is still Ohio warm, but was I so so wrong). After a long morning (2 hours feel like forever when you're surfing) of getting up and falling off my board we went back to the camp for lunch. Never in my life have I been so hungry for whatever they were willing to feed me. But after inhaling a bun, some biscuits and wrapping myself in my questionably bed bug infested blanket and sitting by the large heating unit they had outside I did not want to get back in my soggy wettie for round 2, but I did it anyways. That round was not as successful as the first, after carrying my long foam board that actually weighed a million pounds and was so thick that my stubby arms barely reached around it so I just struggle bussed it down the beach, my arms were not down for the push up part of the surfing process. Despite the coaches yelling "find your nipples!" (the oh so classy way of describing how to properly place your hands on your board before pushing up) my hands were finding more of the sand than anything else.
Day 1 ended on an exhausting but fin note at the little pub/fishermen's club/country club that was located a convenient 10 minute up hill walk away from the camp. We danced the night away, looking so obviously American it was amazing and apparently super entertaining for the locals that just watched us bop around like idiots to 80's classics, Cotten Eyed Joe and Soulja Boy (oh the mix of songs).
Day 2 and the final surf lesson started out rough, the wettie felt like an ice cube, I could barely move because we all now how in shape I am so obviously the day of physical activity was biting me in the butt, and walking on the sand was like walking in snow, holy hell it was cold. But at least I got a smaller and lighter board for the day (even if that meant more of me eating shit in the ocean, I was happy to carry the easier board). But to my surprise the smaller board's challenge turned out to be the most fun day of surfing ever. Even though I was only surfing on super tiny broken waves (hello they actually looked huge to me), I still got up and mastered somewhat the basics of surfing and improved tons!
The weekend ended at this lovely little bar called Scubar (I've mastered saying it with an Aussie ah at the end). We hungout with one of the instructors and his surfer bros aka my new husband goal. I will marry a surfer because I love all of them.
The weekend was amazing, this post doesn't do it justice but I have to go to class so I have to cut it short. More to come soon, if you're lucky I'll show you the videos they took of me in the super hot wetsuit surfing/falling.
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